


the world moved on

by moggin



Series: a non-festive december mcyt prompt list [11]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Character Death, Death, Emotional Hurt, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Sad Ending, Suicide, Zombie Apocalypse, its really sad ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:40:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moggin/pseuds/moggin
Summary: It had been some months since the zombie apocalypse got this out of hand. A couple weeks since it had been just him.prompt: zombie au
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: a non-festive december mcyt prompt list [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038111
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	the world moved on

It had been some months since the zombie apocalypse got this out of hand. A couple weeks since it had been just him.

He and his brothers were all adopted by Phil. He, Tommy and Techno. He was the first, Phil found him in the woods scared out of his mind, having been abandoned. He and Phil found Techno together, when they were in the nether and they came across a bastion. It was abandoned, the dark rock cracked and broken. They had scanned it for any loot, and on the way they came across a room where the ceiling had fallen through. Wilbur had heard some distressed snorts coming from behind the pile of debris, and he told Phil about it. Phil had been wary, as the man had had an encounter with piglins before and almost got killed. He wasn’t sure he could force that same outcome with a child to look after.

He snuck around the pile, eyes eventually settling on a curled up baby piglin. After waiting for a minute and really listening for anything that even slightly sounded like an adult piglin, he approached the tiny creature. He reached out to it, but as soon as he made contact the tiny pig flinched.

“It’s okay,” he cooed, “I won’t hurt you.”

Piglins usually didn’t speak human languages, so Phil made sure to communicate with his body. He held up his hands with his palms facing the little pig. He seemed to understand, warily scooting closer to Phil.

Phil reached out again to touch the piglin, this time the creature nuzzling into Phil’s hand. He decided that it probably would be okay to pick up the little thing, so he did. It was about as tall as the length of his forearm. Phil took him home, and when he was giving him a bath he noticed a tag on the little piglin’s ear. It was gold, pierced through the flappy lobe, and read “Technoblade” in neat, small font.

Techno had actually been the one to find Tommy. The piglin had gone to check the various animal traps set up around the house, made so that the family didn’t have to go hunting(even though both sons knew that if they were at all low on food, Phil would go hunting for them). Wilbur didn’t have a problem with hunting, but Techno, as a piglin, felt a stronger connection to mobs than humans did, so hunting was usually more difficult for him and caused a lot of mental strain. 

Tommy had been stuck in one of the traps. The trap was set up so that when a wire was touched, it triggered a piece of machinery Phil had made that caused a net to fall onto the prey. The knots in the sturdy rope had metal barbs tied to them, so usually the prey would die when the net fell on them. When Techno found him, Tommy was under the net on his stomach, his eyes and fists clenched tightly so he would let out as few noises as possible. Techno had helped him out of the net, speaking softly to the boy in broken English.

Techno had become literate and fluent in English since he became a part of the family, but his mouth wasn’t like a human’s mouth; his tusks and jaw structure weren’t made to speak the human tongue. 

Tommy understood, impressed that a piglin could learn such a complex language(though he never voiced it) and immediately accepted Phil as his new father, and Wilbur and Techno as his new brothers.

When the apocalypse started, the three sons could clearly see the added stress collecting on his forehead, the salty liquid dripping down. Phil slept less, his patience was quicker to run out(though he still never yelled at them, only once when Tommy went out at night and almost died), and it was clear that he was fraying at the edges.

It was two weeks until it was just the three sons. Wilbur had gone out with Phil to go hunting since their traps weren’t catching enough mobs, and there was a zombie… Phil saved Wilbur. Wilbur walked home alone, holding a compass Phil always kept in his pocket.

After that, it was just the three of them for a while.

Then Techno left. 

Wilbur and Tommy didn’t know where he went, if he was okay, if he was even alive. He just packed up some basic things in the middle of the night and dipped. Wilbur guessed the feeling of having a time limit got to him. He understood.

Then it was just Wilbur and Tommy.

Wilbur didn’t want to remember it, but the scene plagued his consciousness, replaying over and over again.

They had settled down in an abandoned deli. There was a ton of food and a door that locked. It was the dream, in an apocalypse.

It was almost morning, if the digital clock they had was correct. They had boarded up all the windows as soon as they came in. Tommy was walking through the aisles mindlessly, a habit he had developed with the added silence. Wilbur should have heard the fleshy, gross footsteps on the tiles. He should have heard the back door quietly open. He should have noticed sooner.

“Will?”

“Yeah, Toms?”

“There’s a problem.”

“Okay, coming.” Wilbur got up, stretching.

“A little faster, please.”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” He started walking to the aisle Tommy was in. “We’re literally the only people for miles, there’s no rush. Are you just getting clingy-” Wilbur stopped.

Tommy was standing, completely still, facing a zombie. And not just any zombie.

The zombie was small in stature, fluffy brown hair framing a cute face and a ripped green tee shirt adorning his greenish torso.

“Fuck.” Wilbur didn’t know what to do. The best bet was to go grab the fire extinguisher and knock the zombie out, but how was he going to kill _Tubbo?_

Tommy still stood there as Wilbur went to get the extinguisher. He missed his best friend so much, and now he was here.

Zombified or not, he was still his Tubbo. The zombie stepped closer, now only a couple feet away, and all of Tommy’s survival instincts told him to _step back_ but this was still Tubbo. Tommy opened his arms, and Tubbo crashed into his embrace. His skin was cold and he smelled horrible, but Tommy just held him tighter. He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t cry, and he barely felt Tubbo’s teeth sink into the meat of his shoulder.

When Wilbur came back with the extinguisher, his eyes widened and he dropped the weapon.

Tommy turned to look at him, eyes white.

Wilbur screamed and ran. Tommy was gone. Techno was gone. Philza was gone. All of his friends were gone. He was overwhelmed with a crushing sense of loneliness at the realization that he was the only one left. He ran for several miles before collapsing outside a store front.

Three weeks later, it hit him.

Everything he ever cared about was gone.

Everything he ever knew was gone.

There was nothing left for him in this world.

He turned the TV in the store on, watching a French reporter talking about a flood. There weren’t any local news stations left. The crunchy audio echoed throughout the store while Wilbur picked up a handgun he had found earlier in the week.

He said a quick goodbye to the store, a quick goodbye to the world, and a quick prayer for anyone who was still alive.

The news anchor stopped talking about the flood just as he pumped his brain full of lead, the loud shot resonated through the store, and the anchor moved on to talk about a small house fire. 

The world moved on, as it always did.

**Author's Note:**

> this was sad to write lmao
> 
> day 11 out on the 22nd, im thriving
> 
> thanks for reading, comments are appreciated so don't be shy!


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